


surrender you my every vital sign

by amorekay



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Blindfolds, Body Worship, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Improper Use of Ripped Clothing, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-War, Praise Kink, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-10-18 09:38:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20637035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorekay/pseuds/amorekay
Summary: “Behave,” Dimitri chides, and it’s warm and amused and makes Felix's toes curl in his boots, his body feeling strung up tight and helplessly limp in Dimitri’s hands all at once.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> aka "it's an unusually hot day in fhirdiad and then it gets real spicy, if you know what they mean." 
> 
> i don't know how this happened. please enjoy.

It’s a rare, oppressively hot day in Fhirdiad, the unusual summer heat chasing everyone away from the streets and into sunken level taverns and bathhouses. At the castle, everyone’s taken refuge indoors, the heavy stonework and shade keeping the worst of the heat at bay. 

Only Felix is out in the smaller of the training yards in the harsh afternoon sun. He’s shucked his heavy overcoat and padding, dropping layers until he’s down to the sleeveless banded tunic he usually wears as an undershirt. It’s hot out, but not unbearably so, he thinks with disdain. Not hot enough to not train. 

He runs quickly through his warm-up, sweat pooling at the back of his neck and in the crook of his elbows as he moves through a set and starts on the next, pausing to roll his shoulder back, stretching out a twinge in the muscle. Footsteps behind him, heavy even on the packed dirt of the grounds, have him turning around and raising an eyebrow at the intruder. 

“I knew I’d find you here,” Dimitri says. He’s dressed simply — clearly a concession to the heat — in a pale blue shirt and riding breeches, only the fine gold embroidery on the silk of his sleeves and the detailing on his thin leather gloves betraying his status. “Not even heat like this can keep you away, can it, Felix?” 

“Of course not,” Felix scoffs. Dimitri watches him and smiles. He’s forgone the embroidered ornamental eyepatch he’s been wearing of late. The old black patch, faded with wear, hides his scars instead. 

Maybe the heat _is_ addling his brain, Felix thinks, fighting the desire to step close and touch his fingers to it. 

Dimitri steps away, long strides quickly carrying him to the weapon racks, and Felix watches his profile as he stands and regards the training weapons. Finally, he selects a sword, testing the weight of it in his hand. 

“I’ll spar with you.”

“Not a lance? You’ll have even more of a disadvantage than usual.” 

“I could use the extra practice on my sword work, and,” Dimitri smiles at him again, “It’ll be like old times.” 

Felix huffs. “Don’t break the equipment here, I don’t think the Kingdom has the budget to field the repairs for your path of destruction currently.”

“No, indeed,” Dimitri says, taking it with a wry grin instead of protesting. “We truly don’t have funds to spare. I’ll try to be careful.” 

He doesn’t actually fight like he needs the extra practice, matching Felix’s speed with endurance and strength that has Felix’s hands ringing painfully from the force behind Dimitri’s blows, even as they glance harmlessly off the side of his blade. He looks for openings, darting in and pressing Dimitri back, grinning at the thrill of an actual challenge. 

Then the atmosphere shifts and Dimitri barely manages to block Felix’s thrust, his expression distracted. Felix feints backwards, instincts thrumming. 

Dimitri drops his stance, practice sword held loosely at his side and steps forward, into Felix’s bubble of space. “It’s quite hot today, isn’t it?” He says, like that’s an explanation. His fingers reach up to touch the droplets of sweat sliding down the side of Felix’s jaw. 

Felix smacks his hand away, wiping his face with the back of his hand, breathing heavy from exertion. “I thought we were sparring.” 

Dimitri smiles and steps closer to him. “Felix,” he says. “May I?” 

Felix juts his chin out, glaring up at Dimitri, more than a little frustrated by this change of tact. He came here to train, not continue whatever this— thing is they’ve been stumbling through, something foolish and indulgent and inevitably hurtling towards a bad end. But Dimitri looks down at him, something softly hungry in his eye, and Felix _wants_ him— always wants him. 

“Fine,” he says. 

Dimitri takes a step back, briefly widening the distance between them, and sets aside his weapon. He looks back at Felix, tugging at his glove with his teeth, working it free and tucking it under his arm before removing the other, gathering them both to fold half into the pocket of his riding breeches.

Felix bends down and drops his practice sword on the ground, carefully kicking it out of the way. Dimitri closes the gap between them, his bare hands reaching to curl around Felix’s upper arm and the side of his throat as he leans in to kiss him.

Felix kisses back, his neck craning to get the right angle, Dimitri always too irritatingly tall for this. He presses up on the balls of his feet and reaches for Dimitri’s shoulders, Dimitri’s hands trailing down his back and over his hips. 

Then Dimitri wraps his hands around Felix’s thighs and lifts him, sending Felix tilting nauseatingly backwards for a moment before he regains his bearings and wraps his arms around Dimitri’s neck. Dimitri bears them down towards the ground, sinking into a squat, and gently drops Felix on his ass in the dirt. Felix smacks his shoulder and he huffs a laugh, kneeling in front of him and pressing back in for a hard kiss. 

Dimitri’s hand tangles in his hair, fingers wrestling with it until Felix is sure it’s all come unraveled, and he bites at Dimitri’s lip in retaliation. Dimitri just groans against his mouth, palm warm against his thigh as he leans in with more of his weight, pressing Felix further back, precariously balanced until he drops his own hand in the dirt behind him to support his weight. 

Dimitri’s mouth is distracting— nearly distracting enough to forget where they are, and Felix thinks about pushing him off, collecting his sword, blaming the flush on the heat. Thinks about it, as Dimitri pulls back, eye bright, his thumb idly tracing across Felix’s thigh — and Felix lunges back up and captures his mouth again, chin knocking painfully against Dimitri’s. Dimitri makes a noise against him, low and hungry. 

His hand stops agitating a mess out of Felix’s hair and falls to his neck, his fingers slipping underneath the high collar of Felix’s tunic, nails scraping down tantalizing against his skin. Felix shudders. Dimitri’s tongue slides against his, warm and distracting. 

Then Dimitri breaks away, a noise of protest escaping Felix before he can help himself, blinking his eyes open to frown at Dimitri. Dimitri tugs at his collar, dipping his head low, breath hot against Felix’s skin, and presses his mouth to the tender spot below Felix’s jaw. 

Felix squeezes his eyes shut again, throwing a hand over his face as Dimitri worries a bruise into his skin with his lips and teeth. “Shit—” he says, and Dimitri’s hand on his thigh presses harder, almost too much, and his fingers pull down at Felix’s tunic until it’s cutting painfully into the back of his neck, stretched too far, and suddenly there’s a splintering of fabric and threads as a panel of his tunic comes fully apart, wrenched free by Dimitri’s greedy hand. 

“Oh,” he says, clearly surprised, pulling away from Felix’s throat and staring at the long strip of fabric in his hand. 

“Really.” Felix reaches out and grabs Dimitri’s wrist, staring in disbelief. “Really?” 

He looks from the scrap clutched in Dimitri’s fingers down to himself, half annoyed and half flushed at the way his tunic is torn, a line of bare skin exposed from his neck to his stomach, only the thick hem of the bottom holding the two frayed sides together. Completely ruined by Dimitri’s damned strength. 

“Felix—” 

He shifts, the confines of his trousers feeling tight, and Dimitri’s gaze drops to his lap and then back up to his face. He seems to think better of whatever he was going to say and instead reaches out and presses against the tender bruise at Felix’s neck, pain blooming enticing in its wake as his fingers trail from it down to the exposed strip of Felix’s collarbone, something wondering in his expression. Felix stares, and Dimitri’s hand slips lower, grazing over the hardened peak of his nipple. 

He watches, brain feeling clumsy and too slow, as Dimitri’s mouth parts, the inside of his bottom lip delicately pink and stupidly catching Felix’s attention. It distracts him as Dimitri leans forward, and his mouth damp and warm against the sensitive skin of his nipple is a shock. “Shit— Dimitri—”

He groans and flings his hands to his face, the back of his wrists shading his eyes as he squeezes them shut against the sensation and that exposed look in Dimitri’s eye as he’d glanced up at him. He doesn’t— want to see it. Dimitri hums a speculative noise, tongue swirling patterns against his skin, then sucking sweetly, a sharp little burst of pain as he adds his teeth. 

He kisses back up Felix’s chest, wet and open-mouthed, coaxing a groan from Felix as he finds another tender spot. Too quickly, Dimitri pulls away, his breath cooling Felix’s damp skin. He touches a hesitant hand to Felix’s arm, and Felix presses his wrist harder against his eyelids. 

“Felix— Perhaps if we were to,” Dimitri’s hands loop around his, gently tugging them away from his face and down to his sides. He keeps his eyes clenched shut, face too heated, head turning away from Dimitri’s voice. “If it’s too much— maybe instead…” 

Felix opens his mouth to ask Dimitri what he’s babbling about, but his trail of thought is cut off as cloth touches his face, draping over his eyes. His hand flies to the back of his head, bumping against Dimitri’s as he pulls away, and Felix feels the frayed edges of a knot keeping torn cloth in place. It must be the panel Dimitri had ripped from his tunic, he realizes. His face burns. 

Dimitri’s words are quick and sheepish. “Forgive me if I’ve oversteppe—”

“No,” Felix chokes out. The weave is thick enough to block out the light, leaving him in floating darkness. Dimitri’s hand looming suddenly against the side of his face feels impossibly large. “...No. You haven’t.”

“Oh,” Dimitri says, something curious in the lilt of his voice. “Would you have me…?”

He trails off, and Felix feels his thumb trail across his cheek, pausing at his mouth and tugging gently at his bottom lip. Felix groans, a new flare of arousal in his gut, and then flushes. 

“You like this,” Dimitri says, and maybe it’s the lack of one sense that has Felix clinging to another— the sound of his voice, wonder and awe and affection in it so thick that Felix can hear it all, and for once, can listen to it and not have to _face_ it. 

Dimitri’s free hand trails lightly up his side, little prickles of sensation raising the hairs on his arm, the back of his neck, rough fingers smoothing flyaways behind his ear, until finally a warm palm cups the side of his face, a mirror of the other. Dimitri runs a thumb right beneath the fabric covering his eyes and then down the bridge of his nose. 

Felix scrunches it in disdain. “What are you doing?” 

“Ah.” A pause. “You’re— surprisingly ...compliant, like this.” 

A hot rush of embarrassment hits Felix and he bites back a little moan. It scrambles the retort he’s— he’s sure he had, leaving him fighting through the haze of arousal and confusion. Dimitri breathes out something half a sigh and half a laugh, his palms sliding back to Felix’s jaw and tilting, angling his head back with effortless ease. Felix swallows.

Dimitri’s fingers slip down to trace the movement of his throat. 

“Felix.” He says. “What would you have me do?” 

“I thought you were—” the embarrassment and heat press harder as he grits the words out, “—calling the shots, why are you asking me, seriously.” 

“Oh.” The tips of Dimitri’s fingers run across his collarbone. “I want… everything.”

The sincerity in his voice is too much, and Felix arches away from him. Dimitri’s hand curls around the back of his neck. “You won’t… tell me what you want?” 

“Surprise me,” Felix snaps, tilting his face down to frown in the direction of Dimitri’s voice, impatience winning over embarrassment. 

There’s a quick burst of pain as those fingers tangle in his hair and yank firmly, tilting his head back again. Felix is too caught off kilter to suppress the whimper it draws from him. Dimitri hums. 

“Behave,” he chides, and it’s warm and amused and makes his toes curl in his boots, his body feeling strung up tight and helplessly limp in Dimitri’s hands all at once. 

“O-Okay,” he breathes, unthinking, and then flushes hot again. 

Fingers still tangled in his hair, keeping his head back, Dimitri’s other hand pets approvingly down his chest, coaxing a shudder out of him. “Good. You’re so good, Felix.” 

Felix can hear him shift, the whispering rustle of his shirt loud in the darkness, and then Dimitri’s mouth presses against the tender bruise at his throat. The scrape of his teeth feels overwhelming now, his focus narrowed down to only the points where Dimitri is touching him. His throat aches, his chest aches, his gut roils heavy with heat and arousal, his hips arching to try to find friction— anything— as he moans. 

“_Dimitri_—“

“Will you tell me,” Dimitri says against his throat, lips pressed to his skin, making him shudder again as he talks, “what you would have me do?” 

“Touch me,” Felix whines, unable to hold it back, feeling taken apart and too damn hot and bewilderingly defenseless. 

“Where?” Dimitri hums against his neck. 

“Dimitri— shit—“ 

“Please tell me,” Dimitri says, so casual and sincere, twining a strand of Felix’s hair around his fingers. Felix reaches up desperately, his fingers groping at air until he finds Dimitri’s hand and pulls, yanking his own hair in the process as he tries to shove Dimitri’s hand down to his lap. Dimitri turns his palm and laces his fingers with Felix’s, grip tight, and doesn’t budge. 

“Felix,” he scolds, voice stern and further away, Felix’s throat achingly lonely from the sudden absence of his mouth. Dimitri squeezes his hand. “Honestly. Your _words_, please.”

“Dimitri—,” Felix whines, “Fine, shit, touch—touch my dick.” 

“Oh,” Dimitri hums, squeezing his hand once more in approval before guiding both of their hands down and pressing Felix’s palm flush against himself, where he’s achingly hard and desperate for friction. Felix bites back a shout. “Say please?” 

Felix whimpers, Dimitri’s hand holding his steady, close but not quite enough. “P-Please,” he forces out, a heady rush of arousal and embarrassment at his own wrecked voice, at Dimitri making him mind his manners, play _nice_, shit— 

Dimitri’s hand releases its hold on his, and fingers tug against the band of his trousers, getting the clasp open and, “You’re so good,” Dimitri says, his hand closing around Felix, “Felix, you’re so beautiful like this, for— for me,” and he sounds too awed for the way he’s moving his fist, the way Felix can’t think straight, the way he’s overwhelmed and shuddering against it, reaching forward blindly to grip desperately at Dimitri, nails biting into Dimitri’s shirt. 

“Beautiful,” Dimitri says again, like it’s something reverent, and it pushes Felix over the edge with a desperate, guttural shout. He can barely hear, noise ringing in his ears, Dimitri still stroking him through the aftershocks, saying something— maybe, Felix can’t tell, his own throat torn raw. Another stroke of Dimitri’s hand over too-sensitive skin makes him flinch, and Dimitri pulls away. 

He tugs the scrap of fabric up Felix’s face, light suddenly filtering in through Felix’s closed eyelids as Dimitri’s thumbs softly brush across the corners of his eyes, gathering up tears he hadn’t realized he’s shed. He’s too boneless and dazed to be embarrassed about it right now, everything slow and languid, his thoughts unfiltered. 

“What about you,” he says, dumbly, his voice hoarse.

“Ah, I was going to— to take care of it later.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Felix mumbles, eyes still shut, Dimitri’s hands cupping his jaw the only thing keeping his head from lolling forward. “Just take care of it now.”

“If you insist,” Dimitri says, and something of the assured, playful tone of earlier creeps back into his voice. Felix’s body gives a valiant attempt at a thrill through his exhaustion.

Dimitri’s hand drops from his face and Felix blinks his eyes open, squinting against the brightness and only getting a glimpse of Dimitri’s smiling mouth before his head tips forward, pale hair clouding Felix’s vision and tickling his neck.

Dimitri’s forehead tips onto his shoulder, his breath soon coming in heavy pants and his hand bumping against Felix’s leg as he works himself. Felix reaches out and runs his fingers through the curtain of Dimitri’s hair, still half-dazed, listening to the little moans and grunts Dimitri stifles against his shoulder. He runs his other hand down Dimitri’s back, feeling the muscles twist and move in his shoulder as his hand works, the knobs of his spine under his silk shirt, the tapered curve of his waist. 

The sun overhead casts light and shadow over everything, all of it looking superimposed and unreal after being blocked out so long, and Felix spares a brief moment to wonder if he’ll regret this later, remembering where they are. Dimitri chokes on a breath and Felix strokes his hair as he presses his face further into his shoulder, mouth opening damp and warm against Felix’s ripped tunic as he comes. 

///

“You know, Felix,” Dimitri says, holding up the missing scrap of Felix’s tunic as Felix debates how best to leave the training yard without looking like he was—in the least implicating, best case scenario— just mauled. “I haven’t heard you so whiny like that since we were kids. Though, I suppose, the circumstances were rather different. But,” he looks thoughtful, “It was rather sweet, really—”

“I don’t want to hear another fucking word about it,” Felix snaps, giving Dimitri his best glare, ignoring the flush rising like clockwork on his cheeks. 

Dimitri, looking incredibly dopey, just smiles at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to [leporidae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leporidae/pseuds/leporidae) for being there while i was haunted by the spectre of smut the entire time i was writing this fic, i genuinely appreciate it.
> 
> also shoutout to dimitri for making this fic so much filthier than i was expecting it to be. thanks dimitri!
> 
> i'm at twitter @[amorekays](https://twitter.com/amorekays) and you can retweet this fic [there](https://twitter.com/amorekays/status/1184613867898327041)!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But you...? I recall, you,” Dimitri smiles at the memory, and Felix is already flushing sweetly up his ears. He smiles wider. “—rather enjoyed it, yourself.” 
> 
> “You ruined my tunic,” Felix accuses, looking away. 
> 
> “Oh?” Dimitri inclines his head, very seriously. “I will have to make sure not to do so again. Perhaps if we were to remove all your clothes ahead of time, so they were safe…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this time they have a bed! and privacy! congrats, guys!

It had taken a week’s worth of deliberation to come to this point; standing uselessly near the door in his room and waiting for a knock, this peculiar thing he’s commissioned clutched in his hands, unsure if it will even be accepted by the man it’s meant for. 

The knock finally comes, and Felix pushes into the room before waiting for an invitation, distaste etched on his face. “What are you doing? The chancellor said you cancelled the dining engagement, and you were acting weird earlier, asking me to come here…”

He looks up at Dimitri sharply. “Are you slipping? I don’t want to drag you back out from there, Dimitri.” 

“Oh! No, nothing like that. Though I do appreciate that you always look out for me, Felix—No, I cancelled the evening’s plans in hopes of… Well, I suppose I should just show you…” He steps forward, closing the distance between him and Felix, and smiles hesitantly. 

“I, ah, I had the seamstress make something for me. I—told her it was a sash,” he pauses, and then says half to himself, “I am sure she would not have told me if she had suspicions, anyway.” 

He holds his hands out, the blindfold clutched in them made of thick, elegant fabric in royal blue with gold embroidery at the edges, not unlike the ornamental eyepatch Dimitri’s been wearing of late. Felix touches a speculative finger to the design. 

“For me?” Felix colors slightly, and then looks at him, intently, “Or, for you?”

He looks interested at that, but—“Ah, I do not think I would—the lack of sight, it’d make me—um,” Dimitri swallows.

Felix’s gaze softens and he reaches up to tug mildly at a lock of Dimitri’s hair, a silent admonishment. “You don’t _have_ to,” he says, the annoyance in his voice belied by his softened expression, “I was just asking.” 

“But you...? I recall, you,” Dimitri smiles at the memory, and Felix is already flushing sweetly up his ears. He smiles wider. “—rather enjoyed it, yourself.” 

“You ruined my tunic,” Felix accuses, looking away. 

“Oh?” Dimitri inclines his head, very seriously. “I will have to make sure not to do so again. Perhaps if we were to remove all your clothes ahead of time, so they were safe…”

Felix pushes him and he laughs a deep belly laugh as he warms with a rush of affection, looking down at him. He carefully tosses the blindfold back towards the bed and catches Felix’s hands in his. “Would you allow me? Would you …give yourself to me, again?” 

“Yes,” Felix says, quietly. He looks up at Dimitri and that—is its own precious thing, Dimitri thinks, when Felix is often so quick to shutter his gaze and couch his words in barbs. “I would.”

Dimitri kisses him then, their hands pulled flush to his chest, smiling into it until Felix makes an affronted noise and catches his lip. He kisses him very seriously _then_, slow and earnest, and it’s pleasant to spend a moment like this. Not with heat, heady and insistent, pooling in his gut, but warmth spreading through his chest and making the moment sweeter. 

How he’s been allowed such a thing, he doesn’t know—and with Felix, who sees the worst of him, to still—still _want_ him, it’s beyond his grasp. 

“Stop thinking,” Felix says, pulling away to frown at him. “You freeze up like a statue when you do, it’s like kissing a stone wall.” 

“Ah, sorry,” Dimitri says, sheepish. He presses one more quick kiss to Felix’s mouth and then looks down at their joined hands. Felix follows his gaze and flexes his fingers against Dimitri’s, before abruptly stepping forward and using the sudden momentum to push Dimitri back towards the bed. 

Dimitri goes willingly, stepping back until his knees hit the side and he sits down, pulling Felix into the space between his legs. He releases Felix’s hands and reaches out to wrap curious fingers around his sides, dropping his head forward. He presses his forehead against Felix’s chest, feeling his ribcage expand and settle beneath his hands as he breathes. He’s surprisingly tolerant, for the moment, resting his palms on Dimitri’s shoulders as he holds him. 

He feels incredibly, miraculously alive underneath Dimitri’s hands.

“I want to lay you out bare and touch all of you, for—for as long as time allows,” he admits, feeling clumsy with the words, and is rewarded with being able to feel the way Felix shivers in response. 

“With— that?” Felix asks, clearly struggling to sound unaffected. 

Dimitri tilts his head up to look at him, at the flush rising warm and pretty on his cheeks. He’s gesturing towards the blindfold. “Yes,” Dimitri agrees. 

“...Okay,” Felix replies after a pause, his nails biting slightly into Dimitri’s skin as his hand settles back on his shoulder. Dimitri pushes him a half step back in his grasp and then drops his hands to Felix’s belts, working as quickly as he can to unbuckle them, sliding the swords from Felix’s hips and placing them on the edge of the bed. 

He dips his hands underneath Felix’s tunic and pushes it up his chest, admiring the strip of skin left in its wake. He lingers there, and Felix finally grows impatient, letting go of Dimitri’s shoulders and reaching down to grab the hem of his own tunic, pulling it free and over his head. Dimitri is left admiring the flush of Felix’s skin, the pink of his nipples. 

“Well?” Felix says, sounding annoyed. “Get on with it.” 

“Ah, yes,” Dimitri replies, snapping back to focus. He regards Felix thoughtfully. “Come here?” 

Felix steps forward and Dimitri pats his hand on his own thigh. “Your boots?” 

“Hm,” Felix lifts his knee and rests his heel on Dimitri’s thigh, shifting to balance his weight on his other leg. Dimitri unsnaps his gaiter at the heel and then runs his hand up Felix’s thigh to work open the small buckles that hold it in place, tugging the fabric down his calf. It snags at his boot and Dimitri grabs the back of his heel, working his boot free and dropping it gently to the floor. He presses a thumb against the bone of his ankle, amazed how small it looks beneath his hand. 

It’s quick to pull Felix’s simple stocking off and the gaiter follows suit, no longer snagged. “Other foot?” Dimitri says. Felix drops his leg and draws his other knee up, booted heel pressing solidly against Dimitri’s thigh again. Dimitri makes quick work of his boot and stocking and lingers on the gaiter, drawing it down Felix’s leg slowly, interested in the way he flushes. 

Now, standing in front of him in nothing but his trousers, Felix makes a face. Dimitri looks up at him, inquiring. 

“You too,” Felix says, tugging at his shirt. 

“Hm? You won’t be able to see,” Dimitri replies, cheerfully bemused.

Felix colors again. “I’ll be able to _feel_,” he snaps—and somehow, manages to go even redder. Dimitri reaches out to touch his cheek and trace the color burning down his chest. 

Ignoring him, Felix tugs at his shirt again and Dimitri acquiesces, leaning forward to allow him room to pull it over his head, Felix tossing it aside much more carelessly than he had. He reaches out to touch Dimitri’s bared skin and Dimitri catches his hand in his own, pulling it up to his lips and pressing a quick kiss to his knuckles before releasing him. 

He stands up and pushes Felix a step back, then bends down and swiftly sweeps him off his feet, one arm curled behind his knees and the other around his back. It’s two quick steps to the head of the bed, ignoring Felix’s protests, and Dimitri cheerfully dumps him onto the sheets, then sits down at the edge and gets to work unlacing his own boots. He tugs them off and makes quick word of his own trousers as well, folding them neatly on the floor, left only in his smallclothes. 

He reaches back to grab the blindfold from where he’d tossed it and crawls over Felix, bracketing him with his arms and legs. “You’re impossible,” Felix says, sounding a little breathless—and annoyed about it. 

“Would you have me cover your eyes now…?” Dimitri asks, though suddenly it seems a shame, looking into them and seeing all the emotions flitting across Felix’s face. “Or,” he shifts his weight to one hand and reaches down to dip inquiring fingers under the band of Felix’s trousers, watching him inhale sharply. “After you’re… free of these?” 

Felix stares at him, lips parted, flush rising up his neck, frozen for a brief moment that Dimitri wants to capture and savor. Then he turns his face, squeezing his eyes shut, throwing an arm up to block everything out. “Now,” he says, his voice thin.

“Of course,” Dimitri says. He feels incredibly fond, looking down at Felix as he arches away, pushing his face further into the pillow, his tied hair bunching messily at the side, his chest and neck pink. Already so flustered. 

He brushes a loose strand of hair away from Felix’s forehead and then tugs at his wrist, sitting back on his knees and pulling Felix up with him. Felix’s eyes remain squeezed shut even as his hand drops and it reminds Dimitri so much of last time—and of the way Felix had gone so pliant and easy beneath his hands after, that it ignites the low thrum of arousal in his gut into something fiercer. He fumbles with the blindfold, not wanting to look away, and finally drapes the heavy cloth across Felix’s eyes, reaching around the back of his head to tie it into place. 

Felix exhales, so soft it’s almost imperceptible. 

Blindly he reaches out, curling his hands around Dimitri’s sides until they’re pressed flush against his shoulder blades, clinging to him. Dimitri strokes his hair, fingers catching at the blindfold, and feels Felix shiver and relax. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says, running a thumb across the blush high on Felix’s cheekbone.

“—Shut up,” Felix replies, a beat too late, with half the usual venom. 

Dimitri smiles and leans in, mouth brushing the shell of his ear. “I’ll show you,” he hums. 

He wraps his hands around Felix, drawing him in close to his chest and then tipping him down, pressing them both into the mattress. Felix makes a little cut off noise of surprise and digs his nails into Dimitri’s back as he falls. Flush against him, Dimitri can feel Felix’s growing reaction, and he shifts his thigh and is rewarded with a groan. 

“You’ll have to release me,” Dimitri says, turning his face to press a kiss to Felix’s jaw. “If I’m to keep my promises.”

Felix’s nails bite deeper into his skin and then reluctantly relax, his hands falling away and grasping at the sheets instead. “Good,” Dimitri says, pressing another warm kiss to his jaw, and Felix makes another one of those sweet little noises. 

He works his own hands free from underneath him and sits back to regard Felix, so pretty and flustered and bound with Dimitri’s own royal blue and gold—claiming his sight, willingly giving himself over to Dimitri like this. Trusting him.

Dimitri strokes a fond hand down his chest and then pauses, suddenly reminded of his promise, fingers at the hem of Felix’s trousers. “Ah, yes,” he murmurs. 

With a smile he leans forward and repositions himself, shifting to settle between Felix’s legs, nudging them apart with his hands. 

Felix is straining against his trousers, the length of him clearly visible, and Dimitri resists the desire to trace a finger up him, instead ignoring Felix’s need entirely to work the fastenings of his trousers open and start inching them down his hips. Felix inhales sharply as his erection springs free. 

Dimitri shuffles back on his knees and tugs at the legs of his trousers until, finally, Felix is laid bare before him. Dimitri runs a hand up his ankle, his thumb pressing into the divot at the bone, and looks at him. 

Felix’s fingers are twisted in the sheets, knuckles straining, his mouth parted and chest rising quickly, little beads of sweat sliding down his neck. Dimitri follows the blush down to his chest and further to the fine dark hair trailing to the base of his cock, where he’s also flushing prettily. Flushed pink all over. Goddess, Dimitri loves this.

He rubs his thumb against the soft skin of Felix’s ankle and leans in to press a kiss to the sole of his foot, then another at the tip of his toe, and another at that dip in his ankle next to his thumb. 

Felix kicks out with his other foot, heel catching Dimitri’s shoulder. “What are you— What—” He’s propping himself on his elbows, pulling his torso up. 

Dimitri catches his errant foot and presses another soft kiss to the underside of it, then curls his hand around his ankle and tugs, pulling Felix down the sheets and knocking his elbows out from under him. 

“Felix, allow me to continue,” he admonishes. 

“Dimitri—” Felix complains, a hint of a whine in his voice. It sends something warm and a little greedy humming through Dimitri. “Can’t you—"

“Can’t I?” Dimitri muses, running his hand up Felix’s calf. 

“Fucking—touch me, all right,” Felix grits out. “You’re teas—you’re being annoying.” 

Dimitri pauses. “Why, Felix, I _am_ touching you.” He smiles to himself. “Maybe if you asked a bit more nicely, I could understand what you mean.”

“Fuckin—” Felix curses, and then clams up, lip caught between his teeth and his head turned to the side. Dimitri waits. After a long moment, Felix exhales, his hands relaxing their tight grip on the sheets. “Fine. Just do—do what you want.” 

“No requests?” 

“No,” Felix says, tightly. 

“How strange, I could’ve sworn...” Dimitri runs his hands back down Felix’s legs. Felix shivers down through his chest and the greedy, hungry thing in Dimitri hums louder. “Well, if you _insist_.”

He gives the same attention to Felix’s other foot, kissing up his sole and ankle, then runs his hands up his calf and presses a soft kiss to a scar just beneath his knee. He wants—to kiss every one of Felix’s scars, he decides. And he _can_, if he so wishes. Right now, he has all the time in the world. 

He presses another kiss to the side of Felix’s knee and follows it up with a nip at the tender skin. Felix shudders sweetly. Dimitri runs his hands further up his leg and leans in to suck a pretty red mark into the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, listening to Felix’s little moan as he coaxes out a bruise. There’s a few more little scars to kiss here, and one long white gash at Felix’s hip that Dimitri runs his tongue along. 

Felix’s cock, flushed and heavy, jumps as Dimitri’s mouth lingers close by at his hip. The tip weeps so prettily that Dimitri leans up to press a quick kiss to it, drawing a choked off noise from Felix. He smiles, and turns his attention back to Felix’s other thigh, sucking a matching mark into the skin, lingering as Felix curses. 

“Dimitri—” he whines, his hips bucking up and straining in Dimitri’s direction, trying to get his mouth back. 

Dimitri reaches up and wraps his hands around Felix’s hip bones, gently holding him down. “Felix,” he admonishes, as Felix twists beneath him. “Please behave.” 

“Fuck—Dimitri—” Felix gasps brokenly, hips still pushing up against Dimitri’s grasp, and he presses him further against the bed, holding him down firmly. Felix’s hands remain clenched in the sheets, obediently still, and Dimitri wants to praise him for that, how good he’s still trying to be without even being asked. 

He waits until Felix yields, relaxing in his grip, and then runs one of his hands up to caress the planes of his stomach as he shudders. “You’re being so good, for me. Won’t you let me keep my promise?” 

“W—What promise,” Felix says, distractedly. Dimitri huffs a fond laugh. 

“To lay you bare,” he shifts forward and presses a kiss to Felix’s sternum, still caressing the taut muscles of his stomach. “And touch… all of you. For as long as time will allow.”

Felix whines, high in his throat. It sends desire roiling hotly through Dimitri, hungry and greedy. He wants to coax that sound from him again. He wants to coax _so many_ things from him. 

“Felix,” he breathes, clambering over his body and kneeling next to him, leaning forward to cup a hand under his jaw. Felix’s pulse beats fast and strong under his thumb. “Would you, for me...”

Felix swallows shallowly, throat moving beneath his hand, and Dimitri leans in to kiss him, open mouthed and warm. Felix kisses back with no real technique, uncharacteristically clumsy and slow. He chases blindly after Dimitri’s mouth as he pulls away. 

Dimitri holds the side of his face, running his thumb over the gold embroidery stitched into the blue of the blindfold, fine and royal and beautiful against Felix’s skin. He presses a kiss to the fabric over each of Felix’s eyes. “Moan for me?” he murmurs against his cheek. 

Felix whines again, wrenched from his throat like he’d tried to swallow it down. His fingers scrabble down the sheets and cling harder, and the flush on his cheeks, so close to Dimitri’s mouth, grows warmer still. 

“Ah,” Dimitri hums. “I like… hearing you. It’s quite beautiful, to know that I could—”

“Dimitri—” Felix chokes out, interrupting him, his hand groping through the air, reaching out for Dimitri, nails scraping down against his chest as he finds him. “Fucking—stop. I need—”

Dimitri grabs his hand, holding it against his chest as Felix’s nails continue to bite desperately into his skin. “Do you want me to stop?” he asks, voice thoughtful. He pulls away from Felix’s face and sits back on his heels, Felix’s hand drawn with him. 

Felix whines, again, high and agitated. “No, you—idiot, I want you to touch me.”

“Ah, I see. But that wasn’t very nice,” Dimitri says, squeezing Felix’s hand. “You know better.” 

Felix inhales sharply and turns his face away. “Fine. —Please.” 

“Please..?”

His nails scrape at Dimitri’s skin. “Please. Touch me, gods—”

“Hmm,” Dimitri says, curious. “With these,” he reaches out and runs fingers down Felix’s side, watching him shiver, then draws Felix’s hand up from his chest up to his lips, “or this?” He draws Felix’s index finger into his mouth, curling his tongue around it. 

“Fuck—Anything, _please_, Dimitri—”

Dimitri nips lightly at the tip of his finger and pulls back. “Anything?”

“Your hands, your mouth, I don’t fucking care, just—just touch me, please,” he finishes, weakly.

“It seems a shame, I _had_ wanted to take my time, and listen to all the noises you could make,” Dimitri muses, and Felix breathes out a desperate little whimper. Dimitri smiles. “However, since you’re asking so sweetly…” 

Giving him one last fond squeeze, he presses Felix’s hand back down into the mattress and shuffles over him, settling back between his legs. He wraps his fingers around Felix’s foot, kneading into his arch with his thumb, that alone dragging a moan from him, and then lifts his foot and starts pressing it gently back, coaxing Felix to bend his knee and bring it up against his chest. He reaches back for Felix’s hand and guides it up to wrap around the back of his thigh, keeping his leg in place. “Be good and hold on for me, please?” 

Felix, with something half a whimper and half a whine, does as he’s told. Dimitri repeats the process with his other leg, maneuvering Felix into the position he wants him in—and it’s a pretty picture, Felix holding himself tucked up and spread out before him, all flushed. 

Dimitri runs his hands up Felix’s legs, presses a kiss to the strip of skin at the juncture of his groin and thigh, lingering to suck a bruise into the tender skin. He moves up, breath ghosting over Felix’s cock, heavy and flushed and terribly neglected, teasing another frustrated moan out of him. Dimitri smiles, wets his lips, and spreads Felix’s thighs further, tipping his head all the way down to press his tongue flat against the tight ring of muscle there. 

“What the—Dimitri—” Felix gasps, and Dimitri kisses him sweetly, teasingly, darting his tongue out and listening to the way he whimpers, high and broken, the muscles in his thighs flexing under Dimitri’s hands. “Can’t _believe_ you—”

The way he sounds and the way his body shudders and responds is—so much, and Dimitri moves to wrestle with his own smallclothes, pushing the fabric down and wrapping a hand around himself, squeezing the base against the flood of arousal. Felix sobs above him, rocking back, seemingly unable to decide if he wants to press into Dimitri’s roaming tongue or arch away from it. 

Finally, Dimitri drags his tongue up Felix’s most delicate, vulnerable skin all the way to the underside of his cock. “Will you let go for me?” Dimitri murmurs, lips brushing against him. And somehow, incredibly, that tips Felix over the edge and he shouts, raw and beautiful, curling even more into himself as he comes. 

Dimitri keeps pressing kisses to his skin, sloppy and hurried as he strokes himself, eventually giving up and pressing his cheek against Felix’s thigh as Felix’s legs collapse onto the sheets. “Felix—” He breathes, moving desperately, and finally the rush of his orgasm comes flooding through him, knocking his breath away. 

///

As soon as he can, he crawls clumsily up the bed, feeling boneless and loose, reaching for Felix’s face and cupping it between his hands and kissing him, catching the corners of his mouth. Felix’s hand starts groping across his thigh, weak and seemingly aimlessly searching, until Dimitri realizes— “Ah,” he says, and laughs softly, pressing another kiss to Felix’s cheek and going to tug the blindfold up his face. “I already…”

“Oh.”

“But it’s cute that you wanted—” 

“—Shut up.”

“Even unable to see me—”

“Dimitri,” Felix says, sounding petulant in a way Dimitri wisely decides not to point out to him. It’s fortunate that Felix still has his eyes squeezed shut, so he can’t see the way he’s grinning. “I’m gross and tired, make yourself useful and clean me up.” 

“Of course,” Dimitri says, softly. “Anything you want, Felix.” 

Felix blinks his eyes open, squinting against the light. 

“Okay,” he says, so quiet it’s almost imperceptible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to [leporidae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leporidae/pseuds/leporidae) for once again laughing at me as i suffered through writing this increasingly filthier thing, and who also supplied some choice words and concepts that show up here that you can thank them for. 
> 
> and shoutout to felix this time, the poor guy could use some support. 
> 
> i'm on twitter @[amorekays](https://twitter.com/amorekays) and you can retweet this fic [there](https://twitter.com/amorekays/status/1184613867898327041)!


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